Coffee With Everything In It
by Lothiriel84
Summary: Still he puts an extra effort in making the coffees, because that's what he's good at and if Martin likes his coffee then maybe he will look Arthur in the eyes the next time he asks for some. - Martin/Arthur.
1. Chapter 1

"Coffee, please. Black, no sugar," the new Captain says, and Arthur realises he's been staring at him for longer than he's supposed to. (To be fair it's not entirely his fault, given that the man is the cutest thing Arthur has seen in a while – with his ginger curls, bluish-grey eyes, and his slender, nervous fingers like a pianist's.)

Still he puts an extra effort in making the coffees, because that's what he's good at and if Martin likes his coffee then maybe he will look Arthur in the eyes the next time he asks for some.

(Though it's also okay if he doesn't. Arthur just thinks it would feel nice, that's all.)

That's why it's not fair when he ends up colliding with the object of his musings, thus spilling the hot drinks all over the man's pristine uniform. Stupid, silly Arthur, he chides himself, all the while babbling his apologies to the flustered Captain.

"I'm so sorry, Skip," that's all he keeps saying, dabbing at the ruined shirt with his own handkerchief. He's going to buy him a new one, of course he is, but that doesn't change the fact that Martin now has to fly with a stained shirt and a mild scald to his chest – and all Arthur wishes right now is for the floor to open and swallow him up.

"It's – fine, Arthur. I'm fine," Martin mutters in an undertone, and it's obvious that he's trying to put on a brave face in spite of everything. He excuses himself and steps out of the flight deck, and Arthur feels so miserable he barely notices that Douglas is talking.

"It's not your fault, you know," Douglas says quietly, and Arthur is silently grateful for the lack of sarcasm to his tone. "He's the one who tripped over his own two feet, not the other way round."

"Yeah. Maybe," he agrees, mostly because he's too unhappy to do anything else. Perhaps he should go and sit in the galley for a while, it wouldn't do for him to cry in front of Douglas after all. (Not because he doesn't trust Douglas, but because he's supposed to be an adult, and adults don't cry – well, except when something really bad happens, but he's not sure other people would think of what just happened as a bad thing, even if it is to Arthur.)

He's so busy trying his hardest not to cry that he forgets Martin has to come through the galley to get back to the flight deck. "Arthur?" the man calls softly, and he has to blink a couple of times before looking up, just to make sure there are no tears in his eyes.

"Are you – okay?" Martin asks at length, and the best Arthur can do is giving him a sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Brilliant. I can make you another coffee if you like. But maybe you don't, and that's fine. It's all fine."

For a moment Martin looks as if he wants to comfort Arthur but doesn't know how to do it. "I – sorry, I've just realised – what did you call me?"

Arthur frowns, struggling to remember. "Hum – 'Skip', I suppose? That's just short for Skipper, but I can stop saying it if you don't like it."

"No, I – quite liked it, as a matter of fact," Martin admits, and there's a new warmth in his eyes, like he didn't realise he was the Skipper until Arthur actually came out and said it. "Thank you."

With that he hurries back to the flight deck, but Arthur doesn't feel like crying anymore. He makes the coffees again, and if his heart skips a beat at the tentative smile Martin offers him when he's handed his own, well, that's a story for another time.


	2. Chapter 2

It's Arthur's birthday, and as brilliant a day as he could ask for. They're flying to Belgium today, the weather is lovely, and if he's really lucky he may even convince Skip that yes, he would very much like for the two of them to sit in Antwerp International Airport and look at the planes while Douglas and Mum do whatever else floats their boat.

(Though he will probably end watching more of Skip than of planes, but he obviously can't say that. It's the one secret Arthur has successfully kept, and something he's quite proud of himself for.)

He says goodbye to Snoopadoop and drives to the airfield; it's still early, but this feels like a kind of spring-cleaning day – even if it's Autumn, but of course you can't wait for the spring to tidy up, can you? – and he's planning to rearrange his rarely used desk at the Portakabin, so that he can put his collection of paper planes on display. Skip might like those, and he just loves how brightly coloured they are, even if Mum scolded him for wasting so many sheet of papers on them.

When he arrives at the airfield he's pleasantly surprised to see that Martin's van is already parked in its usual spot. Looks like he's going to be able to spend some time in the company of his favourite pilot even before they take off, and the thought is enough to bring a big smile to his face; it doesn't matter that the reason Skip came in early is quite likely paperwork, Arthur cherishes all the time they spend together, even more so when it's just the two of them, alone.

Martin, however, is not sitting at his desk like Arthur is expecting. Perhaps he got bored with paperwork and went to make himself a cup of coffee, Arthur decides, and heads straight to the kitchenette.

He's not quite prepared for the sight of Martin knelt on the floor, frantically collecting shards of cheap ceramic from a puddle of spilt coffee. "Oh, don't do that," he cries out, concern prompting him to speak louder than he intends to. "You're going to cut yourself."

Martin looks up, looking very much like a child that has broken one of his parents' most prized possessions. "Your mother is going to kill me," he says, dejectedly, and without a second thought Arthur finds himself kneeling beside him.

"No, she's not. I'll tell her I broke the cup myself. Now let me. Please."

He takes hold of Martin's hands, cradling them in his own so that he can inspect them for damage. There are a few minor cuts, but nothing serious – and he doesn't realise he's caressing the skin with his thumbs until Skip clears his throat the same way he does when he's uncomfortable about something.

"Arthur?"

"Sorry, Skip," he immediately apologises, relinquishing his hold. "I'd better clean this up before Mum arrives."

Martin, however, clumsily reaches for his hands again. "No, I mean – I – this feels rather nice, doesn't it?"

It's Skip's thumbs that are tracing little circles on Arthur's palms now, and he can't help but lean forward just a little. Martin smells of aftershave and coffee – there's a little on his shirt, but he can easily hide it under his captain's uniform jacket – and his breath is warm on Arthur's face.

Well, this is the best birthday present ever, Arthur decides as Skip's hands find their way around his neck, soft lips insistently seeking his own. And it doesn't matter that Mum is going to throw a fit over the state the Portakabin is in, all that matters is the warm, fuzzy feeling that is bubbling up inside Arthur's chest. (Even more so when he finally wraps his arm around his Skip.)


End file.
